Cui Bono
by Pilot The Dog
Summary: St John is willing to sacrifice all to his missionary ambitions but love is stronger and more complex than he realised. This is the story of Rosamond and St John, told from Rosamond's point of view; it will also include other characters such as Jane, Mary, and Diana and will probably differ from the events of the plot in Jane Eyre as it progresses.
1. Chapter I

_**The story of and Rosamond Oliver from Miss Oliver's point of view.**_

 _ **St John is determined to sacrifice all to his missionary ambitions but love is stronger and more complex than he realised.**_

 ** _I have based this first chapter around dialogue from the original novel, however_** ** _the dialogue/speech in the next chapter will be my own._**

 ** _Enjoy!_**

* * *

It was a pleasant evening; the sun just setting above the moors cast on the spread of bronze heather and heath a deeper hue of golden lustre, which blended softly with the prettily shaded sky; full of pinks and bright oranges. I walked quickly up the incline of the vale and along a track bordering the fields. The air seemed alive with birdsong and I could hear the gay bleating of lambs somewhere in the distance. It was, I thought, the perfect night for a walk.

I was on my way to see the new school mistress at Morton school, as Papa had told me she was come. I had an interest in visiting the school and its new mistress besides that of philanthropy or neighbourly kindness, for I knew it to be a particular project of Mr Rivers, and I delighted in his every act! His deeds of christian charity especially, seemed to me another proof of his estimable character and good heart.

My spirits were high as I had only that morning quitted S— where I had spent my time dancing and talking with the charming and lively —th regiment. They were very good company; their quick, witty conversation, and gallant manner made them the most agreeable dancing partners in the room. Indeed they were extremely handsome, though theirs was a dark, bold, sort of good looks, not so captivating as my St. John's ethereal beauty.

The dancing had lasted into the early hours of the morning and I myself was scarcely glad to stop when I did at 2.o'clock a.m. It had been a welcome change from the usual gathering of tradesman from around Morton and I was still feeling the excitement from the night before as I made my way along the little lanes; everything was happy, and gay, and full of vivacity.

With my steps hastened by curiosity and a merry disposition, it was not long before the little school building came into view. It was a small rustic building that had once been a barn, but St John had renovated it along with the adjoining cottage—in which I had aided him in overseeing the furnishings and other domestic details. The old dishevelled barn now looked perfectly neat and orderly standing at the bottom of the long field.

It was a pleasant surprise to see St John standing with the lady by the gate. Carlo lay at his feet and I saw his old ears prick as he sensed me coming.

The lady at St John's side was a little short in stature, slightly built, with brown hair tied at the back of her head in simple braids, her light grey dress was un-embellished and prim; she was not impressive, neither was she ugly, she would perhaps be best described as plain—a very proper looking school mistress—nevertheless there was something I liked in her appearance, a kindness in her mien that pleased me and made me want to know more of her.

She too had her back to me, facing westward at the view of the setting sun with St John; I called out to him—" Good evening Mr Rivers and good evening old Carlo," I added playfully.

Mr Rivers did not turn from the view he was admiring ; I continued—" Your dog is quicker to recognise his friends than you are, sir; he pricked his ears and wagged his tail when I was at the bottom of the field, " I paused a little, still he did not turn to greet me," and you have your back toward me now," I said in a slightly disappointed tone, urging him to be cordial and friendly.

I approached the gate and bent down to pet Carlo, wrapping my arms around the old dog's velvety neck; his cheerful barks were far more welcoming than his master's stony silence.

I felt Mr Rivers finally turn to me and I lifted my veil and looked up at him, smiling. His features were as perfect as they ever had been; statuesque, faultless, and angelic, and his pale blue eyes, though they did not stay long on me before peering downwards at the floor, were enchanting, and looked so clear and profound that it appeared as though their depth might have been limitless.

A patch of white daisies, it seemed, were a far more pleasing prospect than myself, for on these delicate beauties Mr Rivers now fixed his azure eyes and did not even look up at me when he spoke.

" A lovely evening, but late for you to be out alone," he said.

I did not agree—the sun was not yet set and I could see no danger likely befall me in the humble Vale of Morton—at any rate, I had been intrigued to see the new school mistress and had hopes of making a companion of Mr Rivers on my return journey home; surely there could be no more reliable escort! Still, Mr River's watchful tone seemed to demand an explanation; " Oh, I only came home from S— this afternoon," I replied, "Papa told me you had opened your school, and that the new mistress was come; and so I put on my bonnet after tea, and ran up the valley to see her: this is she?" I added pointing to the lady a few paces from his side.

"It is," St John answered in reply. I turned to the neat looking lady.

"Do you think you shall like Morton?" I asked

"I hope I shall. I have many inducements to do so." She answered.

An odd reply, I thought, and rather in the manner of St John ; rationally spoken and considered, though not unfriendly.

"Did you find your scholars as attentive as you expected?"I continued.

"Quite."

"Do you like your house?"

"Very much."

"Have I furnished it nicely?"

"Very nicely, indeed."

Not one for conversation, I supposed, she seems to answer every question in three words or less.

"And made a good choice of an attendant for you in Alice Wood ?" I inquired. I had chosen a local girl whose father worked for papa, she was not very handsome, but sweet and hard working, and I was keen to know if I had made the right decision.

"You have indeed. She is teachable and handy."

I smiled and was pleased that my efforts had been a success.

"I shall come up and help you teach sometimes," I added, eager to enliven my day with a new occupation, and looking forward to the probability of seeing more often,"It will be a change for me to visit you now and then; and I like a change." Turning back to Mr Rivers who still stood examining the daisies I continued, "Mr Rivers I have been so gay during my stay in S—. Last night, or rather this morning, I was dancing till two o'clock . The —th regiment are stationed there since the riots; and the officers are the most agreeable men in the world: they put all our young knife-grinders and scissor-merchants to shame," I laughed . I suppose I wished to inspire a little jealousy in him; I thought it might rouse him from his somber mood.

It certainly seemed to have an effect upon him, as he turned very stern and brooding, and lifted his eyes from the daisies to me; his gaze was hard, and cold.

I laughed again—it seemed the best answer to such an unnaturally solemn stare. Still he stood with the same expression, unrelenting and uninviting, and I thought that his clear blue eyes appeared more than ever like ice.

His strange silence and gaze quelled my laughter and made me uncomfortable; I bent down again and caressed Carlo to avoid them.

"Poor Carlo loves me," I said,"He is not stern and distant to his friends; and if he could speak, he would not be silent."

Mr Rivers had always been rather reserved, but I was surprised that evening by his diffident coldness towards me; indeed, he had of late been less frequent in his visits to papa and somewhat shorter in his conversation, and it hurt not a little to see him so stern.

"Papa says you never come to see us now," I said, looking up,"You are quite a stranger at Vale Hall. He is alone this evening, and not very well: will you return with me and visit him?"

"It is not a seasonable hour to intrude on Mr Oliver," he answered.

"Not a seasonable hour! But I declare it is. It is just the hour when Papa most wants company: when the works are closed, and he has no business to occupy him. Now, Mr Rivers, do come. Why are you so very shy, and so very sombre?"

He did not answer my question, and it suddenly crossed my mind that I had been very impertinent and very unthinking—how could I have forgotten! Mr Rivers' father had so lately passed away, and his sisters so lately left Moor House; Mr Rivers had much cause to be sombre!

"I forgot!" I exclaimed shocked at my own heedlessness,"I am so giddy and thoughtless! Do excuse me. It slipped my memory that you have good reasons to be indisposed for joining in my chatter . Diana and Mary have left you, and Moor House is shut up, and you are so lonely. I am sure I pity you. Do come and see Papa."

"Not to-night, Miss Rosamund, not to-night."

His refusal, though gently spoken was resolute and I could see that to urge him further would be in vain.

"Well, if you are so obstinate, I will leave you; for I dare not stay any longer: the dew begins to fall. Good-evening!"

I offered my hand to him, he held it with his own, though it was but a phantom of a touch; light and brief.

"Good-evening," he echoed—and it was truly as little as an echo; so strangely low and insubstantial his voice sounded. I turned away, but fearing by the unnatural quality of his voice and the parlour of his complexion that Mr Rivers might be unwell I returned.

"Are you well?" I asked.

"Quite well," and with a bow he turned and began to walk away down the steep, and uneven track back to Moor House while I took my own opposite path home. I looked after him when I reached the meadow, and hoped he might glance back at me, but he never did.

 _ **This will hopefully be a multi-chapter story when I have time; I will be very slow in updating until around the end of June. Reviews are always very appreciated, as is constructive criticism. Thanks for reading! If you have any little plots you would like to happen feel free to PM me, I'm welcome to suggestions but if I don't use them it's not because I don't like them I probably just have something else that I've set my mind on!**_

 _ **Thanks!**_


	2. Chapter II

Chapter II

It was some days before I was able to fulfil my promise to Miss Elliott of coming to visit but on Friday morning I put on my riding habit and hat, and ascended the vale toward the school.

As I rode I thought how delightful it was to have a new acquaintance in the neighbourhood, especially a woman of similar age to myself who was amiable and intelligent, if a little reserved.

I reached the school and dismounted; I could see Miss Elliott, through the window, teaching at the head of the class—how confident and at ease she looks, I thought, if I were made to do the same I should not be half so authoritative—I am no good at being serious like she! I went to the little door and knocked, Miss Elliott called to one of the pupils within and I was admitted into the schoolroom by a sweet, though poor looking young girl. Her clothes were shabby and her hair unkempt and she seemed to stare at me as though I had come from another world!

"Good morning, Miss Oliver, " Miss Elliot said, coming forward to greet me, and I was pleased that she seemed happy I had come.

"Rosamond, please," I smiled.

"Jane," she replied."Girls," she prompted turning to her pupils; "Good morning Miss Oliver," they chorused, and I saw that she had already acquired the obedience and respect of her class; no doubt she would do very well in the position, and it was pleasing to think how much good the little school St John and Papa had initiated might do under her guidance.

"Good morning," I replied to the row of eyes that were fixed upon me. "I thought I might be of use to you," I continued to Miss Elliott, "Though I hope this morning's lesson is not arithmetic, for I become quite shockingly confused over sums!"

"No," she replied in her low, calm voice "this morning we are continuing with our needlework."

"Ah, well that is the one thing I can help with!" I cried.

I spent the next half hour teaching a handful of the older girls how to make a chain stitch. At first we had little to say to each other, and I found the silences rather uncomfortable, I think the girls were shy of me, not realising that I was equally shy of they. However, they soon began talking animatedly; they asked many questions about the balls in S— and I was only too happy to relive the gay evenings I had spent there, so that together we had a very merry time!

My pupils mastered the stitch quickly and I was proud of my little attempt at being a school mistress—I was just showing Miss Elliott a particularly pretty detail one of the girls had sewn when St John entered the room.

He saw me, I was sure, I observed his eyes start as he looked on me yet despite having observed me, he sharply turned away and chose first to greet Miss Elliott.

"Good afternoon Miss Elliott," he said, trying to sound composed, but I had seen his look and he knew so."You seem very much at home here," he continued,"I am glad of it."

"Yes, I am very comfortable here," replied she, "And if I am to be treated to such visitors every morning I shall not want for company." As Miss Elliott said this last remark she gestured toward me and St John was forced to acknowledge my presence.

"Miss Oliver, good afternoon," he greeted me cooly. He had steadied himself since the surprise of meeting me but I was determined still to remove that stony mask of his and reach his heart.

"Good afternoon Mr Rivers," I answered, trying to remain unfazed, and moving closer; I was gratified to see again the flustered look in his eye and discomposure of his usually serene countenance. "Miss Elliot is quite wonderful is she not," I went on, for I would not let his coldness prevail, over either he or I. " I cannot imagine a better school mistress, can you?!" I intended to force him into conversation if he was unwilling to enter it obligingly.

"No, I could not."

"Miss Oliver has been teaching the girls chain stitch" said Miss Elliott, handing him the student's work.

"Ah, a very pretty stitch," he observed placidly "But not the most practical, I think."

This comment displeased me and I was almost inclined to to be cross with him.

"Beauty is more valuable than practicality in embroidery," I retorted, "Indeed, when is it not!" I added with a laugh.

"It has its value, certainly," replied St John " And perhaps, in regard to to needle work, you know more than I, but in the world in general, practicality will always be of greater worth. Neither, however, are of the highest value," he added.

"Yes, I quite agree. Love, for instance, exceeds them both, does it not?"

The words had their effect; he acquired that curious look of his and I thought I observed a tremor run through him.

"Divine Love; to love God, and be guided by that love to do right is worthy indeed!"

"To be sure, and to love another...that is worthy also."

I observed him again and saw that his hand was trembling. He does feel for me, I thought happily—and passionately too! He caught my gaze and sternly clasped his hands behind his back.

"All love is worthy," he replied,"it is God's will that we should love, but love of one individual alone is, I believe, love in its most ineffectual form, and can hardly be so great or initiate so much good as love of God."

He looked at me for a moment, calmly and deeply, and I read in his look the resolution to suppress any feelings he had for me, indeed I felt that he intended me to read it.

"Now, we have lingered long enough. I shall read," he said abruptly, going to the head of the class and preparing to recite from his bible.

Thanks for reading!


	3. Chapter III

Chapter III

 _This is a bit shorter than some of the other chapters but I've finished my exams and have more time for updating so hopefully there will be another chapter soon!_

The evening which followed my visit to the school was dismal. I came home to find Papa sitting in the library. It was dark and gloomy in the room despite the daylight outside, Papa's candle had burned down to a dying stub on the table. His book lay open at the foot of his chair and the fire had not yet been lit as was usual. He must have fallen asleep while reading; he was weak of late and slept more often during the day. I quietly retrieved the book from the floor and placed it on the table. It frightened me a little to see him so still and quiet.

"Rosamond?" said Papa in a startled voice "Is it you?"

"Yes Papa," I said, bending down and placing a kiss on his head.

"Ah, forgive me," he said in a calmer tone "I think I must have fallen asleep."

"Yes Papa, I think you had," I smiled.

"Have you been here long?"

"No, I am only just back."

"From the school? How was your visit?" he asked, looking more his usual self as he began to shake off his drowsiness, "Sit by me and tell me about it; I would have come with you if I had not felt so tired today. But the fire is not lit," he observed.

"I will ring," I said, going to the bell.

The footman presently arrived, the fire was lit, and tea brought up.

"How was the school mistress—Miss Elliott? You praised her highly after your last visit."

"Oh, yes, she was very well and looked more settled than before. I am sure, Papa, you could not find anyone better suited to the position—except that she is perhaps a little above it; she is so very clever and refined."

"It pleases me to hear that," he replied "And I am glad of the interest you take in the school. You are a good girl Rosamond," he said, taking my hand affectionately.

"I am only so because of my good Papa," I answered smilingly.

"Rosamond," he said with a sigh "you are too young and gay to be here alone with me." He looked sullenly at the fire for a moment. "Was St John at the school?" he asked as if the two ideas were connected.

"Yes, how did you know Papa?"

"He told me he intended to give daily readings for the benefit of the pupils. How was he? Well I hope? I regret his father's death very much, Mr Rivers was a good man and now, with his sisters gone, St John is alone. It is a solitary life for him."

"Yes, I am sad he is alone."

"He should visit more often. He has not been here in weeks and I do so enjoy his conversation."

I remembered the cheerful evenings I had passed with St John; less than a year ago he had looked upon me with something like warmth, spoken to me with something near affection but since his father's death he had been so cold, so removed. After his father had died he had visited us and told Papa that he meant to become a missionary, whether it was this or some other cause that had altered his regard I could not be sure, but I was grieved by the alteration.

"Do not look so sad. I do not say that I prefer his company to yours, my darling," said Papa, seeing my melancholy expression and mistaking its origin.

"I did not think so Papa," I replied, trying to look less forlorn.

Dinner passed quietly, I was musing on St John and Papa was tired and said little. I went to bed early and read until it was dark.

 _Thanks for reading!_


	4. Chapter IV

(Sorry for the slow update! At least this chapter is bigger than the rest. The spacing is a bit weird but my iPad won't let me fix it. Enjoy!)

Chapter IV

On Sunday Papa was well enough to go to church. I put on my best white day dress and a matching hat with a veil and small white flowers at the side. I turned to look in my glass and was pleased with my appearance; I hope it is not vain to say so, but I thought I looked very beautiful, better than any other girl I would meet at church that morning—and I hoped St John would think so too.

I hurried down the stairs, feeling somewhat excited; the past week had been exceedingly dull and even the society of a small country church seemed an appealing escape. Of course, I was blessed never to find church boring, I did not fall asleep in the middle of sermons as my friends did when listening to their dull clergymen. Indeed, when St John became our clergyman, I am sure I learned more in one month than in all my preceding years put together! Though, to say truth, his appearance and manner of speaking sometimes distracted me from his words. His eyes looked so fine when he preached, they were always radiant but then they shone, and he spoke with a firmness, a fire, that seemed almost heroic —he was so unlike any other man in my acquaintance, and one thousand times more beautiful! If it wasn't for St John I am sure I would have been quite wickedly inattentive!

It was a wet morning and we all hurried into church out of the rain! St John stood in the pulpit and welcomed us all, his low, assured voice resounding through the church magnificently. How those prepossessing tones made my heart leap!

He began his sermon; it was eloquent as always, and again I was captivated by the his impassioned glance, the turn of his head, the movement of his limitless blue eyes, the inflections in his enchanting voice! The start of his sermon was always my favourite part because it was calmer than the end, which often seemed harsher, sometimes even a little frightening in its sternness. For much of beginning he did not look my way at all and I wondered if he was avoiding my gaze, but eventually his eyes turned to me; they did not alter their expression, I might have been any other sitting there that morning, except, perhaps, for a slight—how should I describe it—a slight fixedness, a resolution, that I knew not what to make of. Soon those wonderful azure sapphires glimmered on some other parishioner and St John continued with his sermon. I was very content sitting there with the rain coming down, the dim light glowing through the stained glass, and St John's sermon echoing around the old stone walls.

At the end of the service everyone rose and began to file out. Papa talked a little with an old friend of his and we were the last to leave the church. St John stood at the wide arched door, his fair hair and pale, adonean features standing out against the sullen sky.

"Mr Rivers," Papa greeted him, shaking hands.

"Mr Oliver. You are well I hope?"

"Yes, far better than I was. It is all down to Rosamond's diligence. She is an attentive nurse, though I hope it is a part she will not often be called upon to play."

"Indeed," St John replied.

"It is far too long since you were at the hall. You have been missed," Papa said in a fatherly manner.

"Forgive me. I have been much engaged," St John answered shortly.

How provoking he is, I thought, Must he always be so detached and unsociable! He will surely die of loneliness if he behaves so with everybody!—yet, I must consider his father's passing, and his solitary state: it is not his fault if he is inclined to heaviness.

"Will you come to dinner tonight?" Papa asked—I had been hoping he would.

"I have affairs to attend to."

"But it is the sabbath," I could not help interjecting "Can your business not wait until tomorrow. Do come, Mr Rivers, you see Papa has missed you,"

I smiled, taking Papa's arm. I knew he could not refuse me now and he rather reluctantly acquiesced. I gave him my hand as I left the church, and he took it gently. His hand was cold and smooth in mine, like marble, and I suddenly felt very sorry for him, I wished him to be happy, and did not like to see him so forlorn; neverthless, I went home in high spirits, thinking that I should make him merry, even if he was not disposed to be, and we should have a cheerful evening!

Papa sometimes upbraided me for my lateness at dinner but that evening I was down a quarter of an hour early. Soon I heard the door open and St John was announced.

"Good evening Miss Rosamond," he said upon entering.

"Good evening Mr Rivers," I replied. "How good it is to have you come to dinner again! We have been very short of company of late."

"I am afraid I am poor compensation for a want of society."

"No, indeed! There is nobody I would rather see than yourself!"

"You are too kind Miss Rosamund—though I must doubt the veracity of the statement. I cannot compete with the officers of the —th regiment for wit or conversation."

"Do not say so Mr Rivers, for it is not at all true; I am sure I would not have any one of them take your place."

I hoped that would make him smile but he hardly seemed to notice it.

"It is a gloomy day," I remarked to avoid silence "I hope you did not walk."

"I did," he replied.

"Why, you must be cold and wet! Come and sit by the fire."

"My hat and coat kept me dry and warm enough, I assure you I am quite comfortable."

"I insist, Mr Rivers; you will catch a fever," I said.

Impulsively, I leant forward and felt his hands "But you are cold as ice!"

Our eyes met for a moment and he withdrew his hands so hastily it made me start.

"I am quite comfortable," he repeated emphatically in a strange, agitated voice, and I felt a little embarrassed.

"Well, I see I cannot persuade you!" I replied smilingly to hide my discomfiture, "You never can be persuaded to do anything! You are quite stubborn, you know!"

"I do not disagree with you; do you consider it a fault?"

"I cannot say—it is certainly vexing," I said playfully and I saw something like a smile pass across his lips.

Papa came down a moment later and we went through to dinner.

"How have you been?" Papa asked across the table "Still set on missionary work?"

"Yes," was Mr Rivers' reply "I wait only for my arrangements to be completed."

"Where do you intend to settle?"

"I was always certain that I would travel to the East and I have decided on India as my destination. There is much to be done there—so many to whom God's word has not yet been spoken."

"India," Papa repeated gravely.

"How far away you shall be!" I cried.

"It is necessary that I should go far to seek those who most require my aid and are most in ignorant of God's word."

"Are you sure this is the only course," Papa said, "the climate is harsh. We Englishmen are not made for such conditions. I recall your father's disapprobation of your decision to become a missionary—you are your own man now, of course, no longer the boy who used to sit at this table asking me to play with his tin soldiers, but I must say, I understand his apprehensions; you are an intelligent young man with much to offer the world, we do not want you being carried off by a tropical fever." Papa tried to say the words lightly but they were no jest—I worried for St John, yet it seemed somehow a far off worry, to be dealt with later and I tried to put it to the back of my mind.

"I am sorry for your consternation, yet I cannot put my apprehensions or fears before my work, serving Him to whom I am eternally bound, and whatever may befall me, if I am, as you say, carried off by a fever, I shall welcome it as His will."

Alas! I thought, how could such a thing be the will of anybody! My father sighed and when Mr Rivers' gaze turned to me I cast my eyes despondently down at my plate.

"What of your will, Mr Rivers?" my father asked.

After dinner Papa convinced St John to stay and sit with us in the drawing room. "I will fetch an atlas," I said as we entered, "that we might see how shockingly far away you will be when you are in India."

I went into the library, found Papa's dusty atlas, brought it to St John and sat next to him by the fire. He took the book and leafed through until he came to the right page.

"Here," he said pointing with his finger, his voice was quiet and distant, he seemed lost in contemplation. As he traced his route along the map, his look became fervid, I saw how much he longed to travel—I wished to travel also but I would rather travel to the ruins Italy or the Châteaux of France than to a remote place in the middle of hot and humid jungle. I peered at the spot he had pointed out.

"What an odd name it has," I observed, and laughingly attempted to pronounce it; I tried several variations, all of which sounded quite absurd! Mr Rivers did not laugh.

"It is a translation of a Hindustani name," he said, and pronounced the name with fluency.

"But how beautiful it sounds when it is spoken properly!" I remarked.

St John turned to me with an interest he had not shown before, "It is a beautiful language," he replied. His perfect features looked golden in the fire light that cast an angelic glow about him.

"Rosamond," Papa said, leaning forward in his chair " you must play your song for Mr Rivers."

"Oh yes!" I exclaimed—it was a new song. I had been practicing it all week and had learned to sing to the accompaniment! I went to the pianoforte and set the music upon the stand—I had no need of it for I had learned the song by heart, but I wanted to ask St John to turn the pages. He stood beside me and I began to play; occasionally I would glance sideways at him as I sang to see if he admired my playing. At first he was restless, and kept fidgeting by my side—it was almost distracting— but as I continued he became stiller; his eyes were fixed on me and I noticed that his face wore a similar expression to that when he was bent over the atlas, but softer; he seemed in a trance. Half way through he even forgot to turn the page for me.

"Forgive me," he said as if he had been woken from a reverie; he turned the page and I continued, smiling at the effect of my performance.

"Excellent, Rosamond," Papa said as I finished, "She sings well does she not?" he asked, turning to St John.

"Very well indeed," St John replied with feeling. I bowed my head modestly but I was delighted with the compliment—they were hard to win from St John of late.

"I will play another," I said, pleased with my success, "It is Papa's favourite."

It was a gentle tune, a lullaby that Papa often liked me to play in the evenings. The room felt warm and comforting and within a matter of moments I noticed that Papa had fallen asleep in his chair by the fire.

"Do you like the tune, Mr Rivers?" I asked.

"Yes. It is well written," he replied, "And well played. I have always admired proficiency in music—though it is something I have never possessed myself—it seems remarkable that a certain note or melody may bring such harmony, or unrest, within us, may touch our very souls."

"Do you wish to learn? I shall teach you!" I said.

"Thank you, but I have no wish to learn at present, I am too much occupied; there are many pressing affairs I must contend with before my passage to India."

"That is a pity," I replied, "If you were not going I should have had the pleasure of being your instructress," I added with a smile—I hoped that by continually stressing my reluctance for him to go he might begin to feel reluctant himself.

"I am sorry to miss such an opportunity," he said, I could not tell whether in jest or in earnest.

"You must visit us more frequently now, to make amends for all the time you will be away when you are in India. You spent many evenings here last summer," I added after a pause, remembering those delightful visits—in those days St John would often come with his sisters and we would have a lively time playing games and reciting from plays or poetry.

"They were well spent, Miss Rosamond," St John replied, and I felt glad that he looked back on those memories with the same fondness, I felt more at ease with him for a moment, but his mood changed as he added, "But my life is far busier than it was before; it is taking a different path and I must prepare accordingly. I will come when I am able and am not occupied with other matters."

"Well, you must be sure to come—occupied or no!" I said animatedly.

When Papa awoke he asked if St John would read to us before he left; he recited a chapter from the bible, which was a little tedious after having been to church earlier in the day.

"Might you recite some poetry?" I asked afterwards. "You do read so well."

He assented and I took down a volume of Coleridge. I settled in a chair by Papa as St John leant against the mantle with one arm and held the book in the other.

"Is there any poem in particular you wish to hear, Miss Rosamond?" he asked.

"'The Sigh' perhaps," I said, (I had chosen the poem with purpose); he found the page and began to read—beautifully as always, and with wonderful expression!

WHEN Youth his faery reign began

Ere sorrow had proclaimed me man;

While Peace the present hour beguiled,

And all the lovely Prospect smiled;

Then Mary! 'mid my lightsome glee

I heav'd the painless Sigh for thee.

And when, along the waves of woe,

My harassed Heart was doomed to know

The frantic burst of outrage keen,

And the slow Pang that gnaws unseen;

Then shipwrecked on Life's stormy sea

I heaved an anguished Sigh for thee!

(I observed his brow furrow slightly; he looked perplexed, his eyes moved rapidly across the page, and I concluded that he was not unmoved by the lines he read.)

But soon Reflection's power imprest

A stiller sadness on my breast;

And sickly Hope with waning eye

Was well content to droop and die:

I yielded to the stern decree,

Yet heaved a languid Sigh for thee!

(I hoped he would sigh thus for me—his look as he read seemed to affirm that he would.)

And though in distant climes to roam,

A wanderer from my native home,

I fain would soothe the sense of Care,

And lull to sleep the Joys that were,

Thy Image may not banished be-

Still, Mary! still I sigh for thee.

As he finished he glanced up at me quickly, from the volume—it was a curious glance, I could not read it. "It is late," he said shortly, "I fear I shall outstay my welcome. I must go." After a hurried parting from Papa, a refusal to accept the offer of the carriage, and a farewell in which he neglected the hand I offered him, he left.


	5. Chapter V

Chapter V

 _Sorry about the wait again and for being such an updating snail! Enjoy!_

After St John had left I could not help but feel that I had been rather foolish in asking him to read 'The Sigh'; we met often in the mornings at Morton school and on the Monday following his visit to us he was blunter and more reticent than before—I believe he may have been angry with me. At the end of the week, however, he was more his usual self—yet still far from being warm or hospitable. Sometimes I found him terribly frustrating, indeed, I told him more than once of my vexation at his stubborn coldness. Daily I hoped for his disposition to improve and daily I was disappointed. Nevertheless, I looked forward to my visits at Morton school and became quite fond of Miss Elliott; she was rather more sedate than I would have desired in a companion, and meditative beyond her years, but she was good natured and I enjoyed our meetings. I often came to visit at her cottage, in the evenings or when the school was closed.

Miss Elliott's past was still a mystery to me; when I asked about her previous life her replies were always very vague and I concluded that it must have been terribly dramatic and exciting!

"I am sure it would make a delightful romance!" I declared one evening.

"You may conclude what you wish," replied she, and went on looking over one of the student's books with a slight smile on her face. I believe she found my theories amusing and I liked to amuse her.

"To do with some dashing officer, perhaps, or a poor, gallant foot soldier," I continued, running away with many fantastical images of Miss Elliott's past,"or a dark and mysterious gentleman!"

Miss Elliott glanced up at me, her expression suddenly somber and serious.

I laughed to throw off the solemn atmosphere, but decided to drop the subject nonetheless.

"I am glad you are pleased with Alice," I said, "She is a sweet little thing isn't she?"

"She has proved very helpful," Miss Elliott replied.

"And she is doing well at the school?"

"Very well, she works hard at her studies."

"She is from the workhouse, you know. A poor little orphan."

"Yes, Mr Rivers told me. He told me that it was you who removed her from the workhouse and undertook to pay for her education and clothing."

"It was," I smiled. St John seemed to take some pride in my charitable deeds and I was pleased to hear that he had relayed them to others, it seemed, perhaps irrationally, a compliment from he to I, or at least an indication that I was in his thoughts. "Does Mr Rivers speak of me often?" I asked.

"Not often," Miss Elliott answered honestly, "but that is no measure of disregard for he does not speak often of anything but his plans for India. I believe they consume him almost entirely."

I had spoken of Mr Rivers on so many occasions to Miss Elliott that I suspected my esteem for St John must have been apparent to her, and took this opportunity to ask her opinion.

"He is so unfriendly toward me of late," I said, flinging myself down on a chair, "He has always been somewhat removed, I suppose, yet he was not wont to be so very cold—but a year ago I was sure of his liking for me, but now he is so changeable. Perhaps it is his father's death and his sisters having gone away that effects him so?"

"Mr Rivers is capable of strong natural affection; his sisters, I think, are very dear to him; but I never saw anybody so capable of leading a solitary life. The company of others is not to him what it is to you or I. It is far more likely that it is his ambitions, his desire to become a missionary, that are the cause of his taciturnity. I believe he would attempt to subdue anything he regarded as a hinderance to his plans."

I understood her meaning. It was disheartening to hear it from Miss Elliott despite having suspected it myself, there was something shrewdly perceptive about her and she seemed to understand St John well, when she came to the conclusion it appeared to possess an undoubtable veracity. I would rather have heard it was his father's death that had been the origin of his aloofness for that I knew would have faded with time and I liked to think that my affection could would have quite banished it from his mind, but his ambition being the cause, as I suppose I had known all along, was far more difficult to solve. He thought me, no doubt, unsuitable for a missionary's wife—alas! No doubt he would be correct! I had no wish to travel far away from home, from my Papa, and everything I knew, to exhaust myself in some distant tropical climb! No wish to toil under an Indian sun! I am no saint, and yet even if I were, I can see that I might do as much good at home, happy and comfortable, as I could teaching with St John in a remote foreign village somewhere in the jungle, where, too, it is likely that I would catch a horrid disease before I had time to do any good at all! Why Mr Rivers did not see this also I cannot comprehend! I rode home slowly, feeling troubled; St John would be harder to win than I had hitherto allowed myself to believe, perhaps he was unreachable altogether.

 _Thanks for reading!_


	6. Chapter VI

Chapter VI

(Sorry for the _long_ delay in publishing this chapter, starting university last year seemed to leave me no time to do anything else! Thanks to my new followers—and to my old readers too! Hope you enjoy!)

September continued drearily, the Autumn was fast approaching and I was tired of wandering about the house or the gardens with only dear Papa to talk to; thank heaven for the county ball or I should have died of boredom! It is an annual public ball, held in —shire and always a very merry occasion! I was thankful of the distraction it provided, for Papa, perhaps noticing that my spirits had been somewhat low of late, had said I may buy whatever I had a fancy for, and I occupied myself in attending dress fittings and going to town to purchase items for my toilette.

The ball was held, as always, at Lingley House, a large house—very old I believe, and full of charming, crooked passages and sequestered nooks. The sort of house one might imagine as the setting for a novel. We arrived at seven. Papa accompanied me as he did every year, it was not in his habit to attend balls usually but he always made an exception for the county ball—Mrs Newell, an old family friend, also accompanied us as my chaperone. It was a bitter night and the chill went right through me as I stepped out of the carriage, but the busy crowd within made it warm and cheerful inside. I went straight to Milicent Lowdale, a friend from S—; she met me in excellent spirits.  
"Dearest Rosamond! Is it not glorious?"  
"I declare it is! Why Milicent you are positively glowing, is it a certain gentleman that has put such colour into your cheeks?" I asked teasingly as I saw her glance distractedly at a gentleman a little way across the room.  
"Oh tush! It is nothing but the warmth!" she replied, lightly batting away my inquiry with a wave of the hand, "though I will not deny that I find a certain gentleman standing by the pianoforte exceedingly handsome!" She continued pointedly.  
I turned in the direction she had intimated and did indeed spy a rather dashing young man conversing with a lady by the instrument.  
"Do you see him?" Millicent asked.  
"Yes."  
"Is he not handsome?"  
"Indeed he is! Have you discovered his name?"  
"Alas! No."  
"Why then Milicent, you must make it your task to have found it out by the end of the evening."  
And leaving her with the challenge of discovering the identity of this anonymous beaux, we parted to dance.

My dance card filled up at a delightful pace. The first partner took me for a Polka—he was tall with dark hair and eyes, and at least two decades older than me; then came an exceedingly dull squire whom I could not wait to be rid of, followed by a succession of very agreeable gentleman, including officers of the —th regiment. Well, I shall not bore you with details of every partner but there was certainly one dance in particular that made my heart beat faster than the rest. It was taken in fact, by the young gentleman Milicent had singled out at the beginning of the evening—one Mr James Granby. Papa had dined with his grandfather, Sir Fredrick, and I had heard his name mentioned more than once but prior to that evening had never before set eyes on him. He was very young and handsome, not so angelic as St John, nor so prepossessing, but there was a glint in his eye that spoke of a lively spirit and his manner—charming, witty and excessively good humoured—could not fail to please. Indeed, he was the most admired gentleman present, and I felt many envious eyes upon us as he took my hand.

"Miss Oliver," he said as he took me for a waltz, "I am very glad to finally have the pleasure of making your acquaintance."  
When he spoke, his voice was gentle and soft, in quite a different way to Mr Rivers'.  
"You speak as though I were much talked of."  
"I have heard you spoken of many times. You are much admired, Miss Oliver."  
"Indeed!" I laughed gaily with a blush, finding his boldness pleasing, I had had enough of steely reserve!  
"But I suspect you have never heard my name," he went on and their was a genuine bashfulness in his manner that was endearing and void of artfulness.  
"You do yourself a disservice Mr Granby for I have heard your name mentioned at least a dozen times before tonight."  
"Should I be concerned or flattered?" he laughed.  
"No, I assure you, when I hear you talked of it is never in any tone but one of praise and approbation."  
And upon my saying so he twirled me around with a speed that nearly took my breath away!  
"You are an excellent dancer Miss Oliver!"  
"And you are quite a wicked one!" I answered smilingly.  
"Forgive me," he said gently, "I did not mean to startle you."  
"Not at all," said I, enjoying the dance and the company of my partner the dance was over he thanked me and declared that he 'could not remember having enjoyed a dance so well!'

"Nor I, indeed!" I replied, "It is a splendid ball is it not?"  
"Oh yes, very splendid! I have not been to a ball for many months."  
"Did business keep you from amusement?" I answered, "or studies perhaps?"  
"Nothing so constructive! It was but some trouble with my health."  
"Oh, I am sorry!" I replied, feeling as though I had been prying.  
"You are very kind but do not fear, I am entirely recovered! Though it was a very sad nuisance at the time; my constitution is not sickly and I am not used to being confined indoors."  
"Well, I am very glad that you are well again Mr Granby!"  
"As am I. If I were not I should not have had the pleasure of our meeting."  
I was flattered by his compliment and answered with a smile and bow of my head.  
A moment later four pretty sisters approached Mr Granby and proceeded to surround him with small talk, each evidently desirous of dancing with the gentleman and of driving me from his presence. They were the Grey sisters. Their father, a distant relation of Sir Fredrick through marriage, had recently lost his fortune at the gaming tables and the sisters' consequent circumstances perhaps explained their eagerness to find a husband, and the lively manner in which they attempted to engage Mr Granby in conversation. Mr Granby introduced me to his acquaintance but the sisters did their best to make me feel their displeasure and as I could not dance with Mr Granby again without some appearance of impropriety I left to find refreshments.

I availed myself of some ices and found Papa conversing with our hostess at the end of the room.  
"Rosamond, my darling," Papa said as I reached his elbow "Are you having a merry evening?"  
"I am!" I answered.  
"I see you have been dancing with young Mr Granby," our hostess, Mrs Drew, observed, "Such a charming young man! Tell me," she continued leaning closer in a confidential manner, "Do you not think him a handsome young man?"  
"Yes, I suppose he is."  
"'Suppose'. Why, I see the colour in your cheeks! Your daughter is too diffident Mr Oliver," she teased.  
At that moment I felt an arm clasp mine and Milicent was at my side, I was glad for this interception, for I could indeed feel the blood rising to my cheeks.  
"Yes, that's right, you young ones go and enjoy yourselves," Papa said smilingly with a wave of the hand, "You do not want to be stuck talking to your old Papa."  
I kissed Papa on the cheek and was pulled away by Milicent.  
"Well Rosamond, it seems you were quicker to complete my task than I," she said somewhat curtly, "I have discovered the gentleman's name at last, it is James Granby, but I suppose that is no news to you. Was he a good dancing partner?"  
"Exceedingly good," I replied, not caring to humour her jealous mood, which in truth only increased my pride in my conquest, if I may call it such on so little ground as a pleasant dance and an agreeable conversation.  
Millicent made no answer for a moment, in which it seemed she swallowed her envy, for she then asked in a more cheerful manner for particulars of Mr Granby's behaviour, his person, his style of dancing, his voice etc, all of which details I was happy to oblige her with. By the end of the night we were perfect friends again, it is fortunate, I think, that she did not observe the smile and words of farewell Mr Granby crossed the room expressly to deliver me.

 _Thanks for reading! Reviews always welcome!_


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